Interpretation
Posted: Fri Jan 08, 2021 5:57 pm
Interpretation
10th Vhalar 720 in Volta
Meditative interpretation of
The Crossroad Room
The Good Old Times
Meditation was Yrmellyn’s new addiction and rivalled her addiction to painting. It had proven to help her begin sorting out her situation a bit. Now she just needed to sort it out a bit more.
Right now she walked along a pier in the port of Volta. The city was located at the estuary of the river Zynyx, where it met Orm’del Sea. A couple of trials before she had run into the captain of a ship named Gray Gull. Yrmellyn had travelled on that ship several arcs ago and knew the man. He had brought her news about a group of refugees who had left Rynmere via Norr Bay in the duchy of Endor, right before the city had shut off all contacts with the world outside. It had been ravaged by war, mass-hysteria and plague. Incredible cruelties, destruction and plague and followed. How it was there today was unknown to Yrmellyn but it seemed like the once so prosperous kingdom was in ruins. Some people she had known might have escaped in time though. She couldn’t be sure of it, but there was a chance that they had gone to Viden on Gray Gull.
By meditation, Yrmellyn had understood that it wasn’t as simple as to travel to Viden and search for those people. Rudi, Laurits, Anne ... she owed them her life, yes, but it wasn’t always possible to pay debts and keep promises. Still, she felt obliged to do something but she didn’t know what. She had only explored and scraped the surface of some options during yesterday’s meditation. A deeper investigation seemed might be what she needed to do...she would at least attempt to do it.
It was still warm in Volta this early in Vhalar. There was almost no wind and the sun was shining. This was a good thing because it enabled her to meditate outdoors. As her new habit was, she stopped on an empty pier where nothing would disturb her. There was an empty crate somebody had left without caring to tidy up. Yrmellyn sat down on it, closed her eyes and waited for her body to relax after the walk. She had already found that physical stillness would eventually lead to an inner stillness of the mind as well. All she had to do was wait for it to happen. She sat there immovable and focused on feeling her breath as her lungs pulled in air and pushed it out again. The body worked without her thinking of it or putting in an effort. It breathed and the heart was beating, driving the blood through her veins, nourishing her and cleaning her, night and day.
Yrmellyn let the thoughts stream through her mind as they liked, without intervening. They flowed like a never-ending stream. Once in a while, something caught her attention and she examined it and dropped it again. A memory, a song, a conversation she recalled and other things that floated past as she watched.
To her surprise, something unexpected popped up in her mind. It was the memory of a lucid dream. When had it taken place? She knew it was several seasons ago. It could have been in Ymiden. Or Saun. As a quite long time had passed she wasn’t sure of when it had been. But, Yrmellyn didn’t attempt to change the direction the meditation had taken. She allowed the memory to rise in her mind. She would experience it and examine it without trying to control it. And maybe she would understand it? Was it possible to understand a lucid dream? Was there even something to understand or were the dreams mere whims of the sleeping mind?
There had been a room with many doors in the dream. The Crossroad Room, a place with doors in all directions. She recalled waking up to lucidity there. It had been the weirdest room Yrmellyn ever had seen. As it had been in Emea it had not troubled her at the time. Everything was surreal there. She had accepted it without wondering if there might be a deeper meaning with the dream.
Was there something the dream wanted to tell me? Why do people wake up and go lucid? Why do I experience things when I dream? But, what an odd thought...do dreams want to tell people things? If so, what was the message of the crossroad dream?
What might a room full of doors mean? So many options, all leading to unknown destinations, so hard to choose one of them...but choose I must if I wanted to find the way out from that room. If it told me something it might be that I was in a mess. But, I didn’t need a dream to tell me that, did I? It was already a well-known fact to me in my waking life. Still, there could be a kind of insight to gain from it. It could be that there were are options, leading out to somewhere else, something else.
Then again, it could also mean that all roads lead to the same place and ends there. The doors might open inwards, not outwards.
Open a door and walk out?
Look inwards, not outwards?
No...what makes sense is that there are options. Options that confuse me as I don’t understand them. As I don’t know what they would ensue I find it hard to choose. The only way to deal with it is to speculate and find out more. So, I will speculate ...
She recalled more things from the room in the dream. There had been a big desk full of papers and drawings and on that desk, she had found a letter from an unknown writer. It had told her that she was on Quirkholme Quagmire. In the dream, she hadn’t reacted much to that name but in the meditation, it stood out as meaningful.
What a weird name. A quirky place that drags people down? Did the dream tell me that I am stuck in a bizarre marsh? Or ...
The magic. The attunement. That is a strange and quirky thing and I am stuck with it like a dragonfly in amber, trapped in a maze of opportunities and options so many that I can’t figure out how to live my life anymore. The painting keeps me going. But, I’m spinning like the needle of a broken compass and I don’t know the way out...
An insight, yes, but if it was useful or not was hard to know. She didn’t question it. The meditation continued and she recalled more of the dream. There had been a man. A fellow dreamer. A random comrade she had met there. What was his name? Rainbow? No ... it had been something else.
Brent. That was it.
So, what could a dream want to tell her by giving her this meeting? She had never seen the man before and knew nothing about him except that he had told her that he made maps. A cartographer. It had made her feel hope. A person who made maps ought to be able to help her find the way out for the odd place they were in. She had decided to follow the advice in the mysterious letter and stick with him. He had also seemed to stick with her, for a while. Then she didn’t know what had happened ... it had turned even odder ... they had entered a kitchen and eaten cakes with poems inside and she had duped a butler into believing that she was an upper-class lady and the man her servant. On the next floor, they had entered a ballroom but her comrade had run away up a staircase at high speed and left her behind. This was why Yrmellyn had charmed a Biqaj “sea lord” who had followed her upstairs and pointed a sword at Brent. The dream had ended there, at least for Yrmellyn. Her small Emeyan helper Bizette had spirited her away and drummed her back to the world of the waking.
Well, try to figure out the meaning of that!
Don’t look for maps made by others because they will lead you astray and put you at danger?
Run faster when your companion speeds up their pace and runs away?
When they disappear out of sight, stay at the ball and seduce sea lords instead?
Avoid attics at all cost?
Don’t believe in mysterious letters from anonymous writers?
An amazing army of questions passed by. None of them felt relevant. All of them seemed like attempts to make sense where there was no sense to have.
I lost sight of him and then I forgot what my goal was. But, he was the one who ran away despite that the letter had told us to stick together at all cost. He never looked back to see if I was able to follow. The crowd in the ballroom closed behind him and so, I had to cope alone. But, maybe he felt that I failed to follow and when I caught up, I arrived with unexpected danger In tow. Maybe I turned the tables on a man who didn’t like to deal with unpredicted situations?
Exactly what that might mean wasn’t clear to Yrmellyn but she allowed the meditation to flow on and give it what it might. It struck her that the true meaning of the dream could have been to tell her to not play along but instead take command of herself and her future.
Turn the tables. Send the old pieces flying. Play another game. That is the way to set yourself free.
At this point, the meditation came to the end. The dream had wanted to be dealt with and she had done so. It was over now. She sat still for a while and listened to the sounds of the river and the ocean. Then she opened her eyes and looked at the surroundings and finally, she moved her body a bit.
A dream had been interpreted and a message had been derived. But what was the meaning? Life, art, magic, dreams and meditation, all gave her mystery upon mystery to ponder, a quagmire of riddles and a never-ending row of doors to the unknown. She felt like she was playing a game she didn’t know, against an invisible counterpart who was cheating.
“Turn the tables,” she said to the ocean. “Send old pieces flying. Play another game. Be free.”
She got to her feet and walked back home.
Right now she walked along a pier in the port of Volta. The city was located at the estuary of the river Zynyx, where it met Orm’del Sea. A couple of trials before she had run into the captain of a ship named Gray Gull. Yrmellyn had travelled on that ship several arcs ago and knew the man. He had brought her news about a group of refugees who had left Rynmere via Norr Bay in the duchy of Endor, right before the city had shut off all contacts with the world outside. It had been ravaged by war, mass-hysteria and plague. Incredible cruelties, destruction and plague and followed. How it was there today was unknown to Yrmellyn but it seemed like the once so prosperous kingdom was in ruins. Some people she had known might have escaped in time though. She couldn’t be sure of it, but there was a chance that they had gone to Viden on Gray Gull.
By meditation, Yrmellyn had understood that it wasn’t as simple as to travel to Viden and search for those people. Rudi, Laurits, Anne ... she owed them her life, yes, but it wasn’t always possible to pay debts and keep promises. Still, she felt obliged to do something but she didn’t know what. She had only explored and scraped the surface of some options during yesterday’s meditation. A deeper investigation seemed might be what she needed to do...she would at least attempt to do it.
It was still warm in Volta this early in Vhalar. There was almost no wind and the sun was shining. This was a good thing because it enabled her to meditate outdoors. As her new habit was, she stopped on an empty pier where nothing would disturb her. There was an empty crate somebody had left without caring to tidy up. Yrmellyn sat down on it, closed her eyes and waited for her body to relax after the walk. She had already found that physical stillness would eventually lead to an inner stillness of the mind as well. All she had to do was wait for it to happen. She sat there immovable and focused on feeling her breath as her lungs pulled in air and pushed it out again. The body worked without her thinking of it or putting in an effort. It breathed and the heart was beating, driving the blood through her veins, nourishing her and cleaning her, night and day.
Yrmellyn let the thoughts stream through her mind as they liked, without intervening. They flowed like a never-ending stream. Once in a while, something caught her attention and she examined it and dropped it again. A memory, a song, a conversation she recalled and other things that floated past as she watched.
To her surprise, something unexpected popped up in her mind. It was the memory of a lucid dream. When had it taken place? She knew it was several seasons ago. It could have been in Ymiden. Or Saun. As a quite long time had passed she wasn’t sure of when it had been. But, Yrmellyn didn’t attempt to change the direction the meditation had taken. She allowed the memory to rise in her mind. She would experience it and examine it without trying to control it. And maybe she would understand it? Was it possible to understand a lucid dream? Was there even something to understand or were the dreams mere whims of the sleeping mind?
There had been a room with many doors in the dream. The Crossroad Room, a place with doors in all directions. She recalled waking up to lucidity there. It had been the weirdest room Yrmellyn ever had seen. As it had been in Emea it had not troubled her at the time. Everything was surreal there. She had accepted it without wondering if there might be a deeper meaning with the dream.
Was there something the dream wanted to tell me? Why do people wake up and go lucid? Why do I experience things when I dream? But, what an odd thought...do dreams want to tell people things? If so, what was the message of the crossroad dream?
What might a room full of doors mean? So many options, all leading to unknown destinations, so hard to choose one of them...but choose I must if I wanted to find the way out from that room. If it told me something it might be that I was in a mess. But, I didn’t need a dream to tell me that, did I? It was already a well-known fact to me in my waking life. Still, there could be a kind of insight to gain from it. It could be that there were are options, leading out to somewhere else, something else.
Then again, it could also mean that all roads lead to the same place and ends there. The doors might open inwards, not outwards.
Open a door and walk out?
Look inwards, not outwards?
No...what makes sense is that there are options. Options that confuse me as I don’t understand them. As I don’t know what they would ensue I find it hard to choose. The only way to deal with it is to speculate and find out more. So, I will speculate ...
She recalled more things from the room in the dream. There had been a big desk full of papers and drawings and on that desk, she had found a letter from an unknown writer. It had told her that she was on Quirkholme Quagmire. In the dream, she hadn’t reacted much to that name but in the meditation, it stood out as meaningful.
What a weird name. A quirky place that drags people down? Did the dream tell me that I am stuck in a bizarre marsh? Or ...
The magic. The attunement. That is a strange and quirky thing and I am stuck with it like a dragonfly in amber, trapped in a maze of opportunities and options so many that I can’t figure out how to live my life anymore. The painting keeps me going. But, I’m spinning like the needle of a broken compass and I don’t know the way out...
An insight, yes, but if it was useful or not was hard to know. She didn’t question it. The meditation continued and she recalled more of the dream. There had been a man. A fellow dreamer. A random comrade she had met there. What was his name? Rainbow? No ... it had been something else.
Brent. That was it.
So, what could a dream want to tell her by giving her this meeting? She had never seen the man before and knew nothing about him except that he had told her that he made maps. A cartographer. It had made her feel hope. A person who made maps ought to be able to help her find the way out for the odd place they were in. She had decided to follow the advice in the mysterious letter and stick with him. He had also seemed to stick with her, for a while. Then she didn’t know what had happened ... it had turned even odder ... they had entered a kitchen and eaten cakes with poems inside and she had duped a butler into believing that she was an upper-class lady and the man her servant. On the next floor, they had entered a ballroom but her comrade had run away up a staircase at high speed and left her behind. This was why Yrmellyn had charmed a Biqaj “sea lord” who had followed her upstairs and pointed a sword at Brent. The dream had ended there, at least for Yrmellyn. Her small Emeyan helper Bizette had spirited her away and drummed her back to the world of the waking.
Well, try to figure out the meaning of that!
Don’t look for maps made by others because they will lead you astray and put you at danger?
Run faster when your companion speeds up their pace and runs away?
When they disappear out of sight, stay at the ball and seduce sea lords instead?
Avoid attics at all cost?
Don’t believe in mysterious letters from anonymous writers?
An amazing army of questions passed by. None of them felt relevant. All of them seemed like attempts to make sense where there was no sense to have.
I lost sight of him and then I forgot what my goal was. But, he was the one who ran away despite that the letter had told us to stick together at all cost. He never looked back to see if I was able to follow. The crowd in the ballroom closed behind him and so, I had to cope alone. But, maybe he felt that I failed to follow and when I caught up, I arrived with unexpected danger In tow. Maybe I turned the tables on a man who didn’t like to deal with unpredicted situations?
Exactly what that might mean wasn’t clear to Yrmellyn but she allowed the meditation to flow on and give it what it might. It struck her that the true meaning of the dream could have been to tell her to not play along but instead take command of herself and her future.
Turn the tables. Send the old pieces flying. Play another game. That is the way to set yourself free.
At this point, the meditation came to the end. The dream had wanted to be dealt with and she had done so. It was over now. She sat still for a while and listened to the sounds of the river and the ocean. Then she opened her eyes and looked at the surroundings and finally, she moved her body a bit.
A dream had been interpreted and a message had been derived. But what was the meaning? Life, art, magic, dreams and meditation, all gave her mystery upon mystery to ponder, a quagmire of riddles and a never-ending row of doors to the unknown. She felt like she was playing a game she didn’t know, against an invisible counterpart who was cheating.
“Turn the tables,” she said to the ocean. “Send old pieces flying. Play another game. Be free.”
She got to her feet and walked back home.